


Nanaimo Bars

by Skimatic



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skimatic/pseuds/Skimatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is trying to make a holiday treat, but he might need a bit of help from Bitty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nanaimo Bars

Hey Everyone! This SUPER LATE entry is for [treeglass](http://treeglass.tumblr.com)! Family events cut this submission close to the deadline, and I apologize for that. The other chapter will be up by the 19th, needs some last minute revision! Just thought I ought to post this as fast as I could, and again, I apologize profusely. Hope this will be worth it in the end.

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“Merde!”

Jack careens towards the sink with the smoking saucepan, steam and smoke filling the Haus kitchen. Burnt chocolate oozes into the steel trap as he rinses out the pan for the third time. The copper scrub digs into his skin, grounding him.

Why did he think he could do this? He hadn’t made nanaimo bars in years, and back then mother had been helping with the custard and chocolate. He missed cleaning the spoon, licking the sugar from his fingers, dodging his mother’s dishrag. Without any additional assistance there was going to be no sweets for anyone—let alone a Christmas gift.

“Lord have mercy!” Bitty storms through the kitchen doorway, cheeks flushed and blond bangs ruffled from the winter wind outside. His garish pink and gold BEYONCE knit beanie is almost off his head.  Jack bites his tongue, lest he smile at how baggy his Samwell hoody fits on his lineman.

“Jack Laurent Zimmerman, you better have a darn good reason for smoke in my kitchen!” Bitty’s tiny red-mitten fists of fury perch on his hips, pink lips pursed with indignation.

Ah, he almost forgot. This slip of a southern boy wormed his way into Jack’s life—somehow. Maybe it was the way he took to ice like a common loon to water. Those spins of his held a certain grace, for games and recreation. If not the ice, perhaps it was the endless cookies or pies shoved down Jack’s throat this past year. Normally he tried to keep his diet focused on protein, but every treat left him feeling warmer than a fresh batch of maple syrup.

Of course everything Bitty did left him warm these days.  He has no patience for social media, but he set up his own Twitter just for Bitty’s account. Even with the countless pumpkin spice latte posts, he always smiled in the privacy of his room as he scrolled through Bitty’s endearing photos of the frogs. Though he had to admit, seeing himself mentioned on the account gave him mixed feelings. Part of him was happy that he influenced Bitty’s life in some small way, but the thought of complete strangers commenting on his ass? Well, sometimes Bitty expressed his preference for it so it may not be all bad.

“Yoo-hoo? Jack? Anyone in there?” At some point Bitty had crossed the kitchen, and now he leans towards Jack’s left, waving his ridiculous red mitten in front of his face. Shining brown eyes are furrowed at him, reminiscent of the chocolate he had been trying to make.

Once again, Jack’s eyes drop to those pink lips. His face feels hot, and he chews his bottom lip hard. He scoots away from Bitty, leaving the sink and his project. He dries his hands with a dishcloth, wringing the fabric back and forth between his fingers. His back rests against the counter, and he stares down at the floor beneath him.

“Bitty—” Oh no. Did his voice just crack? He clutches the dishcloth tighter, palms beginning to sweat. He coughs into his elbow to try to clear his throat.

“Jack? Are you getting sick?” His small frame starts to inflate; his boots rise on their toes, spine stretching to its ultimate 5’6.5’’ height. He rips off the mitten to properly wag his finger in Jack’s direction. “If you bring germs into _my_ kitchen—”

“Bitty, have you ever made nanaimo bars?”


End file.
